Bullet (66 page)

“Did I wake you up?”  I’d probably shut the door louder than I’d meant.

“No.  Chris did.  He might be hungry.”

“Yeah, probably.”  I touched my son’s nose with the tip of my finger.  “My little pumpkin.”

He grinned and touched his nose.  “
Pukkin.”

I started laughing.  My son
could make the darkest day seem brighter, but seeing him there on Brad’s lap was even better.  Brad smiled at me, and I wondered if he felt the same way.  “I can put some coffee on, or would you rather grab some breakfast somewhere?”

“I just want coffee right now.  I hate to bug you, but do you have some cereal or something Chris could eat?”

“Can he do scrambled eggs and toast?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let Uncle Brad make some breakfast too.”

Without thought, I touched his arm
, and the words rushed out before I could stop them.  “Brad…thanks for everything.  You’ve always been my best friend.  I can always turn to you.  Always.  And…I’m sorry I always get you involved in the middle of all my bullshit.”

He chuckled.  “Jesus.  You have no idea.”  Wow.  Okay…so maybe I was even worse than I thought, and my facial expression gave that idea away.  He shook his head.  “Come on…I’ll explain over breakfast.”

As we stood, I noted that the sun was fully up, even though I still couldn’t actually see it, but it had risen and was lighting the city.  Once we were indoors, Chris reached for me.  “Oh…he needs a diaper change.  Be right back.”  The poor kid was soaked.

So I went back to the bedroom and took a diaper out of the bag, and even though I spoke sweet words to Chris, I wondered what Brad had meant.  Whew.  I knew there had been times he’d been involved in shit between Ethan and me just by virtue of the fact that he was in the band and he was
a friend to us both, and I could think of a couple of times when he’d been directly involved, but I didn’t think it had been constant.  I guess I’d been wrong, and I wanted to hear what he had to say.

Brad was scrambling eggs in a skillet when I walked in
, and I set Chris on the floor to play with the toy I’d fetched out of the diaper bag.  I gave my son a bottle of juice and then asked Brad, “Want me to make coffee?”

“Sure.”

So I busied myself with making it, wondering what Brad had to say.  He turned back from the eggs.  “I don’t have a high chair for the little guy.”

I tried to think of how to take care of the problem.  “Maybe a stack of books or something
to sit on?”  But having Chris up that high without being secure made me nervous.

“If you don’t care if he’s standing, he coul
d just eat in the living room, and we could put his food on the coffee table.”

I grinned.  “Have you seen the way he eats?”

He shrugged and pulled the skillet off the burner.  “Fuck it.  You only live once, right?  I own a vacuum.”

“Your house.  If you’re sure.”

“Little guy’s gotta eat.”  He pulled a saucer out of the cupboard.  “You want any?”

I shook my head.  “No.”

He pulled out a plate.  “Suit yourself.”  He scraped the eggs onto the big plate and the little saucer he’d gotten for Chris and then put two triangles of toast on Chris’s.  “A spoon for the little guy?”

“Yeah, but he’ll probably just use his hands.”  Brad smiled and took care of the silverware just as the coffee was finishing up.  I asked, “Sugar and cream?”

He nodded, letting me know I remembered, so I poured two cups and found the creamer in the fridge and sugar by the coffee pot.  While Brad was taking the food in the living room, I got our coffee just right.  He came back in the kitchen.  “Want me to get the coffee or Chris?”

I smiled.  “If you don’t mind getting Chris…”

“Come on, buddy,” he said, bending over and scooping him up.  Brad had thought ahead and spread out a bath towel under where Chris would be eating.  Chris stood, leaning against the coffee table, and just as I’d suspected, picked up a scoop of eggs with his little hand and shoved it in his mouth.  Brad and I sat on the couch next to each other, and if it hadn’t been such a tense moment, I might have enjoyed how otherwise natural just hanging with Brad and my son felt.

Brad looked at the plate of food he’d made for himself and touched the fork, but he left it on the coffee table.  “I don’t know why I made any for me.  I’m not that hungry.”  He looked at me.  “Sure you don’t want any?”

I nodded and took a sip of my coffee.  “I’m sure.”  I wouldn’t have an appetite until I heard what Brad had to say.  “So what were you going to say about being in the middle of my crap?”

He smiled and shook his head.  “It’s not what you think.”  The light was streaming in through the crack in the curtains, highlighting that there were no telltale signs
in the universe of anything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.  I could have almost believed that this moment was years earlier when we were young, optimistic, and carefree.  He took a swig of coffee and set his cup down out of Chris’s reach.  “I went to your place last night.”

I swallowed.  It took me a few seconds to register what he’d said.  “You
what
?”

He sighed.  “Yeah, Val.  You’re not the only one having Ethan problems.  And…what he did to you yesterday.  That’s it.”  I narrowed my eyes but said nothing.  “We’re supposed to be rehearsing three days a week
, and we’re lucky if he comes to one.  And when he bothers, he’s argumentative and asinine.  Nick, Zane, and I have been considering kicking his ass out, even though he was a founding member.”  He took a deep breath and looked at his hands.  “He’s a wrecking ball.  He doesn’t create; he destroys.  He tells us our new material
sucks
, but he won’t do anything to help.  And know what?  He couldn’t, because it’s the most perfect stuff we’ve ever written.  But he wasn’t involved in it, and that’s why he hates it.”

“That’s his fault for not being there.”  Just like with me.  He was never there anymore.

“Damn right.  But he doesn’t see if that way, and until he does, he’ll never change.”  He grabbed his coffee and tried to look at me but was struggling with it.  “I was lying here on the couch last night, and I was pissed.  Pissed about what he did to you, even though you haven’t told me exactly what happened.  Pissed that he doesn’t give a shit about his friends, his band, his kid.  Nothing.  He’s so goddamned self-absorbed.  When we were kids, you know, that was fine, but Ethan never grew out of it.  I’d stood by and never said a word, but I’m done.

“So…I just told him he has a week to get his shit together or he’s out.”

I nodded.  “That’s fair.”

“I don’t want you worrying about income, Val.  You’re still writing most of our lyrics.  You’re in the loop.  We’ll take care of you.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“I know.  But…”  I held my breath.  I was worried about what he was going to say next.  “I also beat the shit out of him, Val.”  He hung his head, resting his forehead on his fist.  “I’m sorry.  I just…am so angry.”

I touched his shoulder, wanting to hold him, but I knew it wouldn’t be right.  “I know, Brad.  I know.”

He looked up at me.  “If he ever touches you again, I’ll probably kill him.”

“He won’t.  Ethan and I are done.  Forever.”

It might have taken me years and a lot of growing up, but I knew in that moment, as I looked upon the man I really loved and then looked over at my precious baby boy, that I really was done with Ethan.  I couldn’t save him.  All I could hope for would be that he would save himself before it was too late.

* * *

Oh, God, I felt so good.  I felt satisfied, endorphins rushing through my body, filling me with happiness after the pleasure rush I’d just experienced.  He pulled me close, making me warm.

His hands were stroking my back, and I kissed his chest.  My God, I could never,
would
never grow tired of this man.

“Mommy, mommy!”  Chris ran in the room, and I almost panicked.  I hoped my cries of
satisfaction hadn’t awakened him.  We rarely ever indulged in morning sex, but having my neck nuzzled had made it impossible for me to contain myself this particular morning.

I was still wearing the loose t-shirt I’d slept in
, and I was glad.  My son wouldn’t get a surprise if the sheet fell down.  “Come on up, sweetie.”  He climbed up on the bed.  Even through the sheet, the tiny bulge of my tummy was noticeable.  Chris touched it.  “Baby?”

“Yes, baby, honey.”

“We love baby.”

“Yes.  We love baby.”

“Daddy Brad?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“You love baby too?”

Brad chuckled.  “Yeah, of course, I love the baby.”

It was
his
child, so I knew he did, but I didn’t see how he could love the baby more than he’d grown to love my son.  Brad lifted Chris up over me and rolled on his back, resting Chris on his abdomen.  I thought back over the last year and a half.  So much had changed.  After all my worrying, I hadn’t needed to move out my house.  Ethan did instead, moving in with some trashy woman who was just as into heroin and other crap as he was.  And I worked on me.  I finally had the throat surgery I should have had years before.  Brad and I had kept our distance for a while, but I invited him over for dinner one night, and we wound up confessing our love for each other.

Ethan, though…he just couldn’t stop hurting me.  He refused to grant me the divorce
at first, so we battled it out for months.  He kept holding Chris over my head too, threatening to try to take custody, even though he and I both knew that was ridiculous.  No judge in the country would give Ethan sole or primary custody of his son.  But I
did
want Ethan to be a part of his son’s life, no matter what he’d done to me.

Ethan finally hit bottom again and spent several months in rehab.  He cleaned up
, and he visited me…and Brad, because by that point, we were living together.  Brad had put his house up for rent and moved in with me.  Ethan didn’t try to beg for me back like he’d done multiple times in the past.  I think he was starting to see the light.  I could only hope.  He apologized and said he wanted to see Chris as often as possible.

And he finally granted me the divorce and wished me happiness.

A week later, he and Brad talked out how they would get the band back together.  And then he took Chris for a weekend of father-son bonding.  It was too late then, though, because I saw how Chris looked at him.  Sure, Ethan was his father, but Brad had become his daddy.  No, Chris didn’t hate his real father, but he didn’t understand how Ethan fit in his life.  Brad was the man who’d been there for him.

Brad wrote me a song too, and it was then that I realized he’d never lied to me.  Not once.  He had fallen for me the first time we’d met and, just like he’d promised, he’d waited for me.  The women, even Karen, weren’t
much more than something to pass the time in an attempt to fill that emptiness.

Yeah…he’d waited for me to realize that Ethan wasn’t the man for me.  And when that hit me, I started crying.  He’d been playing the song on his acoustic and singing it to me from across the room.  When he finished and saw me crying, he rushed to my side to ask what was wrong.  I was overcome with emotion, and he swept me off my feet and made love to me.

I’m pretty sure that was the night I got pregnant.

And now we’d settled into some semblance of normalcy. 
I looked over at Brad bouncing Chris, and I laughed when my child laughed.  Brad looked at me, that deep look in his eyes, and he kissed me and then sat up, bringing Chris into a big hug.

“So what are we doing today?” I asked.

“I’m doing band practice this afternoon.”  Fully Automatic was working on their third album, and the powers that be seemed to think Ethan’s meltdown and rehab stint would actually
help
sales.  Brad had also been hinting that he wanted me to sing a song for this one since I had my voice back.  But that was a conversation for another time.

“So…breakfast in or out?”

Chris sat between Brad and me, and he said, “I want pana-cakes.”

I tousled his hair.  I loved how he said some of his words, and that was one of the cute ones.

“With maple syrup?”  I was hoping to goad him into another one of his cute words.

“No.  Boo-berry.”

I smiled.  “Well…”  I looked at Brad.  “Does Daddy Brad have all that stuff?”

“Nope.  I think we’ll have to go out for
boo-berry
.”

“I get my shoes,” Chris said and slid off the bed to walk to his room.

Brad moved closer and kissed me.  “So…we’re getting the little guy pancakes.  What’re we gettin’ his mama?”

“A cup of decaf, I think.”

“Is that all?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Uh…there’s something else I think you should get.”

I raised my eyebrows and grinned.  “And what would that be?”

He flashed me a wicked, knowing smile and then rolled over and opened the drawer on the nightstand next to his side of the bed.  “Close your eyes.”